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ON CAME THE DOGS DASHING ACROSS THE FIELD, FOLLOWED BY THE 

HUNTSMEN. [PAGE 7.] 




THE 

RAINY DAY SERIES 


Black Beauty 


THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE 


By ANNA SEWELL 

)\ 

REWRITTEN FOR YOUNG READERS BY 

MARY E. BLAIN 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

HUGO VON HOFSTEN 


BREWER, BARSE & CO, 

CHICAGO 


HHWiinnMH 








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LIBRARY of CONGRESS! 

Two Cooles Received < 

JUt, 20 i 907 

M ft«iyri*ht Entry 

/£ f( ]°2 

oL XXc., No, 

COPY il. 


COPYRIGHT, 1907 

BY 

BREWER, BARSE & CO, 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

On came the dogs, dashing across the field, followed 

by THE HUNTSMEN Frontispiece 

I GALLOPED OFF TO THE OTHER END OF THE FIELD .... 8 

I KNEW VERY WELL THAT THE BRIDGE WAS NOT SAFE ... 1 6 

There was much confusion in the yard, the horses 

BEING GOT OUT OF OTHER STABLES 24 

After the Farrier had examined my wounds, he said he 

HOPED THE JOINT WAS NOT INJURFD 32 

Miss Ellen was going to try me 40 




BLACK BEAUTY 


CHAPTER I. 

MY EARLY HOME. 

The first place I remember was a large, pleasant, 
meadow with a pond of clear water in it, partly shaded 
by trees. Rushes and water-lillies grew at the deep 
end. Over the hedge on one side we looked into a 
ploughed field, and on the other we looked over a gate 
at our master’s house, which stood by the roadside; at 
the top of the meadow was a grove of fir trees, and 
at the botttom a brook overhung by a steep bank. 

I lived upon my mother’s milk until I could eat 
grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night 
I lay down close by her. When it was hot, we used to 
stand by the pond in the shade of the trees, and when 
it was cold, we had a nice warm shed near the grove. 

When I was old enough to eat grass, my mother 
went out to work in the morning and came back in the 
evening. I was the youngest of seven colts which were 
in the meadow. We had great fun running and gal- 
loping around the field. 

One day, when they had been rough, biting and kick- 
ing, my mother whinnied to me to come to her and 
then she said: “Remember what I am going to say to 
you. The colts who live here, though good colts are 
cart-horse colts, and they have not learned manners. 
You have been well-born and well-bred; your father 
has a great name in these parts, and your grandfather 
won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your 


6 


Black Beauty 


grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I 
ever knew, and you have never seen me kick or bite. 
I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never 
learn bad ways; do your work with a good will, lift 
your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or 
kick even in play.” 

I have never forgotten my mother’s advice. Her 
name was Duchess, but our master, a good kind man, 
often called her Pet. He gave us good food and lodg- 
ing, and spoke as kindly to us as he did to his little 
children. We were all fond of him, and my mother 
loved him very much. When she saw him at the gate, 
she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He 
would pat and stroke her and say, “Well, old Pet, how 
is your little Darkie?” meaning myself, who was a dull 
black; then he would give me a piece of bread, and 
sometimes a carrot to my mother. All the horses 
would come to him, but I think we were his favorites. 
My mother always took him to town on market day 
in a light gig. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE HUNT. 

Before my second birthday something occurred 
which I can not forget. We were feeding in the lower 
part of the field, when we heard a sound like the cry 
of dogs. The oldest colt raised his head, pricked up 
his ears and said, “The hounds!” then galloped to the 
upper part of the field, followed by the rest of us, 
where we could see over the hedge into several fields 
beyond. Soon the dogs were tearing down the field 
of young wheat next to ours yelping, “Yo! yo, o, o! 
yo! yo, o, o!” at the top of their voices. Then a num- 
ber of men, some in green coats, sped after them on 
galloping horses. They were soon in the lower field 


Black Beauty 7 

and seemed to have halted while the dogs, now quiet, 
ran in every direction with their noses to the ground. 

“They have lost the scent,” said the old horse, “per- 
haps the hare will escape.” 

Presently the dogs began their “yo! y6, o, o!” and 
with men and horses came back at full speed heading 
straight for our meadow, where the high bank and 
hedge overhang the brook. 

“Now watch for the hare,” said my mother, and 
just then the poor frightened hare rushed by toward 
the woods. 

On came the dogs, pell mell, down the bank, leaping 
the stream and dashing across the field, followed by 
the huntsmen. The hare tried but failed to get through 
the thick fence and started back, when the dogs 
pounced upon her with wild cries. One of the hunters 
whipped off the dogs, and held up the torn and bleed- 
ing hare and all the gentlemen seemed pleased. 

I was astonished and looked away toward the brook 
only to witness another sad affair. One fine horse was 
struggling in the stream, and another was groaning on 
the grass beside his rider, who lay quite still. 

“His neck is broken,” said my mother. 

While she was talking, everything became quiet, 
even the dogs seemed to know something was wrong. 
Our master was the first to reach the young man who 
was Squire Gordon’s son, George, and with the help 
of some of the hunters, carried him to the house. 

The farrier came to see the black horse that lay 
groaning on the grass, with a broken leg, but soon he 
too was quiet, for he was shot to end his misery. 

My mother was much worried and never went to 
that part of the field again. She had known the horse, 
whose name was Rob Roy. 

A few days after, we heard the church bell tolling 
and saw the funeral procession of George Gordon. 
How awful it all seemed and just for one little hare. 


CHAPTER III. 

BREAKING IN. 

When I was four years old I began to grow hand- 
some, with a fine, soft coat of glossy black. I had a 
white star on my forehead and one white foot. After 
my master broke me in, he sold me to Squire Gordon. 

“Breaking in,” means to teach a horse to wear a 
saddle and bridle and to carry a person on his back; 
to go just the way they wish, walk, trot or gallop. He 
must never kick, bite or jump, nor speak to other horses 
and always obey his master. 

The bit is a horrid thing of steel which is pushed 
into one’s mouth, between the teeth and over the 
tongue, held in place by straps around the head and 
under the chin. 

The saddle was not so bad, indeed, I felt proud to 
carry my master about. 

Then I must have shoes. The blacksmith cut away 
a part of each hoof, but it did not hurt, he then took a 
piece of iron the shape of my foot, and nailed it on. 

Next, I must be broken to harness. A stiff, heavy 
collar was placed on my neck, then the bit and bridle 
put on, then blinkers, which are pieces of leather 
against one’s eyes so you can see neither right nor left 
but just straight ahead; and then the crupper, a little 
saddle with a horrid stiff strap that went around my 
tail. It was very unpleasant to have my tail doubled 
up and poked through that strap. I felt like kicking 
then but would not hurt such a good master. I was 
patient and by and by got used to all these things and 
did my work as well as my mother. 

I was sent for a fortnight to a farmer’s meadow near 
the railroad, as a part of my training, which I 

8 





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I GALLOPED OFF TO THE OTHER END OF THE FIELD 







9 


Black Beauty 

think was an advantage. At first I was badly frightened 
at the sight of a huge iron monster, roaring and puffing 
as it sped along. Many of them passed during the day, 
but as they did not come into the field or harm me, 
and the cattle and sheep paid no attention to them, 
I lost my fear of the train and now am as fearless at 
the railway station as in my own stable; thanks to my 
kind and thoughtful master who broke me in without 
the use of a whip or harsh words. 


CHAPTER IV. 

BIRTWICK PARK. 

Early in May the Squire sent for me. My master 
said, “Good-by, Darkie, be a good horse, and always 
do your best.” As I could not speak I put my nose in 
his hand, he patted me kindly, and I left my first home. 

My new home was called Birtwick Park, my stable 
had four good stalls, pleasant and airy. 

The first stall, a large square one, shut in behind with 
a wooden gate, had a low rack for hay and a low man- 
ger for corn, it was called a loose box as the horse oc- 
cupying it was not tied but left loose to do as he 
pleased. This fine box was for me. The other stalls 
were not so large or nice. 

I looked into the next stall to mine and saw a little 
fat gray pony, with a thick mane and tail, a pretty head 
and a pert little nose. 

I raised my head and said, “How do you do? What 
is your name?” 

He turned around as far as his halter would allow 
and answered, “My name is Merrylegs. I carry the 
young ladies on my back and sometimes take our mis- 
tress out in the chaise. They and James think a great 
deal of me. Are you going to live here?” 

“Yes,” I replied. 


10 


Black Beauty 


Just then from the stall beyond, a tall, chestnut mare 
with a handsome neck, but with ears laid back and an 
ill-tempered look in her eyes said to me, “So you have 
turned me out of my box?” 

“I beg your pardon, I had nothing to do with it,” 
said I, “the man put me here.” 

When she went out in the afternoon, Merrylegs 
told me she was called Ginger, because of a bad habit 
of biting and snapping, and while in the loose box, she 
had bitten James in the arm quite badly, and the young 
ladies were afraid to come into the stable. 

•“I hope they will come now,” said Merrylegs, “for 
they were fond of me, and brought me good things to 
eat. Ginger says no one was ever kind to her, so why 
should she not bite. She was ill-used before she came 
here, but John is the best of grooms and James the 
kindest of boys, so it is Ginger’s own fault for not stay- 
ing in the loose box.” 

John Manly, the coachman lived in a cottage near 
the stable. The next morning John fitted me carefully 
with bridle and saddle and rode me slowly at first, then 
at a trot and canter, and at a light touch of the whip 
I had a splendid gallop. 

Coming back through the park, we met the Squire 
with his wife. “How does he go?” asked the Squire. 

“Fine,” answered John. “He is as fleet as a deer, 
and has a fine spirit and shows good sense and good 
training.” 

“That is well,” said the Squire. “I will try him 
tomorrow.” And so he did. 

When we came home his wife said, “My dear, how 
do you like him?” 

“He is perfect,” replied the Squire, “a splendid 
creature, what shall we call him? He is as black as 
ebony, how would Ebony do?” 

“No, not Ebony.” 

“How is ‘Blackbird,’ like your uncle’s old horse?” 


Black Beauty u 

“No, he is too handsome for that. He is a perfect 
beauty, with that sweet good-tempered face and those 
fine, intelligent eyes, a real ‘Black Beauty.’ Don’t you 
think that name suits him?” 

“Yes, that is a good name,” said the Squire, and so 
I was called Black Beauty. 

At the stable John told James that the master and 
mistress had chosen a good sensible name for me: 
James said : 

“If it were not for bringing back the past, I would 
have named him Rob Roy, for I never saw two horses 
more alike.” 

“No wonder,” said John, “for Farmer Gray’s ‘Old 
Duchess’ was the mother of both of them.” 

I did not know this, and so poor Rob Roy, who was 
killed at that hunt, was my brother, now I understand 
why my mother was so troubled and sad. 

John was proud of me and talked to me a great deal, 
he was very kind and considerate. James Howard, the 
stable boy, was kind and pleasant too, so I felt well off. 


CHAPTER V. 

MY COMPANIONS. 

The first time, Ginger and I were driven together, 
I wondered how we would get along, but Ginger be- 
haved well and honestly, doing her share of the work 
willingly, and proved a good partner. We grew quite 
friendly and sociable after being driven together several 
times, which made me feel more at home. 

Merrylegs and I soon became great friends, he was 
such a good-natured little fellow that he was a favor- 
ite with everyone, especially with Miss Jessie and Miss 
Flora, who rode him in the orchard and had fine games 
with him and their little dog, Frisky. 


12 


Black Beauty 


Our master had two horses in another stable, a roan 
cob named “Justice,” who was used for riding or the 
luggage cart, and “Sir Oliver,” an old brown hunter 
who was past work, but still a great favorite with the 
master, who gave him the run of the park. 

We would chat together in the paddock, but of 
course I was not so intimate with them as with Ginger 
who was my neighbor in the stable. 

I was quite happy in my new home, everyone was 
good to me, I had a nice, airy stable and the best of 
food, but I missed the liberty I had enjoyed for three 
and a half years. To run at will through the large 
field; to toss my head and tail and gallop at full speed 
down the field and back again, with a snort of delight 
to my companions; to frolic and roll on the soft sweet 
grass or to nibble it at leisure, and drink from the 
clear, cool brook, which reflected the blue sky and 
fleecy clouds above. How I longed for such freedom 
again, while here I am to stand, day after day and 
perhaps year after year, except when I am wanted, 
and then I must be steady and quiet with straps here 
and there, a bit in my mouth, blinkers over my eyes, 
and do my master’s bidding. But I do not mean to 
complain for I know it must be so, but it is hard for 
a spirited horse. 

For a few hours on Sundays, during the summer, we 
were given the liberty of the paddock in the old or- 
chard which was a great treat. 

One day, when Ginger and I were standing alone in 
the shade, she wanted to know about my bringing up 
and breaking in, and I told her. 

“Well,” said she, “if I had had your bringing up, I 
might have as good a temper as you, but now I don’t 
believe I ever shall.” 

“Why not?” I said. 

“Because it has been so different with me,” she re- 
plied. “I never had anyone that was kind to me. I 


Black Beauty 


T 3 


was taken from my mother as soon as I was weaned, ' 
and put with a lot of colts. The man that had care 
of us never gave me a kind word and the boys pass- 
ing through our field would throw stones at us to make 
us gallop. When it came to breaking in, several men 
chased me into a corner of the field, one caught me by 
the forelock, another by the nose, and held it so tight 
I could hardly breathe; then another took my under- 
jaw in his hard hand, wrenched my mouth open, and 
forced the halter on and the bar into my mouth ; then 
one dragged me along by the halter, while another 
used the whip on me. Men have been more cruel than 
kind to me. 

The master’s son was a large bold man called Samp- 
son. He was not gentle like his father, but harsh and 
cruel. 

One morning he came for me early with a saddle 
and bridle and a new kind of bit. I could never quite 
tell how it came about; he had just mounted me on 
the training ground, when something I did put him 
out of temper, and he chucked me hard with the rein. 
I felt bad from being over worked and abused the day 
before and the new bit was very painful. I reared up 
suddenly and he began to flog me. For a long time 
he stuck to the saddle and punished me cruelly with 
his whip and spurs. At last, after a terrible struggle, 
I threw him off backwards. I heard him fall heavily 
on the turf, and without looking behind, I galloped off 
to the other end of the field. At sunset my kind 
old master came for me ; he led me to the stable, bathed 
my wounds and cared for me tenderly. He said to 
Sampson, “a bad tempered man will never make a 
good tempered horse.” 

After this, I was sold to a gentleman in the coun- 
try; he was a good master and I was getting on very 
well until his old groom left and a new one came, who 
was as hard-hearted as Sampson. 


Black Beauty 


H 

One day, when he had aggravated me more man 
usual, I bit him, which angered him and he began to 
hit me about the head with a riding whip. After that, 
he never dared to come into my stall as my heels or 
teeth were ready for him, and he knew it. 

The end of it was that I came here not long before 
you did; but I thought that men were my naturslk 
enemies, and that I must defend myself. Of course if^- 
is very different here.” 

“Well,” I said, “I think it would be a real shame 
for you to bite or kick John or James.” 

“I don’t mean to,” she said, “while they are good to 
me. I did bite James once, but John said, ‘Try her 
with kindness,’ and instead of punishing me as I ex- 
pected, James came to me with his arm bound up, and 
brought me a bran mash and stroked me; and I have 
never snapped at him since, and I won’t either.” 

I was sorry for Ginger; however, as the weeks went 
on she grew much more gentle and cheerful. 

I often wondered why Sir Oliver had such a short 
tail ; it was only six or seven inches long, with a tassel 
of hair hanging from it; and on one of our holidays 
in the orchard I ventured to ask him by what acci- 
dent he had lost his tail. 

“Accident!” he snorted with a fierce look, “it was 
no accident; it was a cruel, shameful, cold-blooded act! 
When young I was tied up, so that I could not stir, 
and then they came and cut off my long, beautiful tail, 
through the flesh and bone.” 

“How dreadful!” I exclaimed. 

“It was dreadful; the pain which lasted a long time, 
and the indignity of having my best ornament taken 
from me was not all, but how could I ever brush the 
flies off my sides and my hind legs? You who have 
tails whisk the flies off without thinking about it, and 
you can’t tell what a torment it is to have them settle 
upon you and sting and sting, and have nothing to 


Black Beauty 15 

lash them off with. I tell you it is a life-long wrong, 
and a life-long loss.” 

“What did they do it for then?” said Ginger. 

“For fashion!” said the old horse with a stamp of 
his foot. “There was not a well-bred young horse in 
my time without his tail docked. Just as if God, who 
made us, did not know what we wanted, and what 
looked best.” 

“To my mind, fashion is one of the wickedest things 
in the world. I had a dear friend once, a brown ter- 
rier; ‘Skye’ they called her. Her bed was under my 
manger where she had a litter of five pretty little pup- 
pies. 

One day a man came and took them all away. In 
the evening poor Skye brought them back, one by 
one in her mouth; not the happy little things they had 
been, but bleeding and crying pitifully; they had a 
piece of their tails cut off, and also the flap of their 
pretty little ears. How their poor mother licked them, 
and how troubled she was. I never forgot it. The 
wounds healed in time and they forgot the pain, but the 
nice soft flap which was intended to protect the delicate 
part of their ears from dust and injury, was gone for- 
ever. Why don’t they cut their own children’s ears 
to make them look sharp? why don’t they cut the end 
of their noses to make them look plucky? One would 
be just as sensible as the other. What right have they 
to torment and disfigure God’s creatures?” 

Sir Oliver, though gentle, was a fiery old fellow, and 
what he said was new to me, and so dreadful, that I 
found a bitter feeling towards men rise up in my mind 
that I never had before. To change the subject, I 
said : 

“Can anyone tell me the use of blinkers?” 

“No!” said Sir Oliver shortly, “because they are of 
no use.” 

“They are supposed,” said Justice, the roan cob, “to 


16 Black Beauty 

prevent horses from shying and starting, and getting 
frightened.” 

“I consider,” said Sir Oliver; “that blinkers are dan- 
gerous things. Horses can see much better in the dark 
than men can, and many an accident would not occur 
if horses had the full use of their eyes.” 

Things were getting rather sore, when Merrylegs 
said : 

“I believe John does not approve of blinkers; I 
heard him talking with master about it one day. So 
let us cheer up and have a run to the other end of 
the orchard.” 

Merry Legs could not be resisted, so we broke of ¥ 
our conversation, and galloped away to an old apple- 
tree, where we contented ourselves by munching sweet 
apples that lay scattered on the grass. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE WOODEN BRIDGE. 

One day late in autumn my master had to take a 
long journey on business. I was harnessed to the dog- 
cart, and John went with his master. I liked the dog- 
cart, it was light, and the high wheels ran along pleas- 
antly. There had been a great deal of rain, and now 
the wind was very high and blew the dry leaves across 
the road in a shower. We went along merrily till we 
came to the toll-bar and the low wooden bridge. The 
river banks were rather high, and the bridge, instead 
of rising went across just level, so that in the middle, 
if the river was full, the water would be nearly up 
to the woodwork and planks; but as there was good 
substantial rails on each side; people did not mind it. 

The man at the gate said the river was rising fast. 
Many of the meadows were under water, and in one 






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Black Beauty 17 

low part of the road, the water was half-way up to 
my knees. 

When we got to the town, I had a good bait, but as 
the master’s business engaged him a long time, we did 
not start for home till late in the afternoon. The wind 
was then much higher, and I heard the master say to 
John: 

“I have never been out in such a storm. I wish we 
were out of the woods.” 

“Yes, sir,” said John, “it would be rather awkward 
if one of these branches came down upon us.” 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there 
was a splitting sound, and crashing down amongst the 
other trees came an oak, torn up by the roots. It fell 
across the road just before us. I was frightened. I 
stopped still, and I believe I trembled, though I did 
not turn round or run away; I was not brought up to 
that. John jumped out, and was at my head in a 
moment. 

“That was a narrow escape,” said my master. 
“What’s to be done now?” 

“Well, sir, we can’t drive over that tree, nor around 
it; there is nothing to do, but to go back to the four 
crossways, and that will be a good six miles before 
we get around to the wooden bridge again. It will 
make us late, but the horse is fresh.” 

So back we went and round by the crossroads, but 
when we got to the bridge it was nearly dark; we 
could just see that the water was over the middle of 
it; but a9 that happened some times when the floods 
were out, master did not stop. We were going along 
at a good pace, but the moment my feet touched the 
first part of the bridge, I felt sure there was some- 
thing wrong and I made a dead stop. “Go on, 
Beauty,” said my master, and he gave me a touch with 
the whip, but I did not stir; he gave me a sharp cut; 
I jumped, but I dare not go forward. 


Black Beauty 


“There's something wrong, sir,” said John, and he 
sprang out of the dog-cart, and came to my head, and 
looked all about. He tried to lead me forward. “Come 
on, Beauty, what’s the matter?” Of course I could 
not tell him, but I knew very well that the bridge was 
not safe. • 

Just then the man at the toll-gate on the other side 
ran out of the house, tossing a torch about like one 
mad. 

“What’s the matter?” shouted my master. 

“The bridge is broken in the middle, and part of 
it is carried away; if you come on you’ll be into the 
river.” 

“Thank God!” said my master. “You Beauty!” 
said John, and took the bridle and gently turned me 
round to the right-hand road by the river side. 

For a while neither master nor John spoke; then 
master began in a serious voice. I could not under- 
stand much of what they said, but I found they thought, 
if I had gone on as the master wanted me, it was more 
than likely we should all have been drowned. Master 
said God had given men reason by which they could 
find out things for themselves; but He had given ani- 
mals knowledge, which did not depend on reason, and 
which was much more prompt and perfect in its way, 
and by which they had often saved the lives of men. 
John told many stories of dogs and horses, and the 
wonderful things they had done; he thought people 
did not value their animals half enough, nor make 
friends of them as they ought to do. 

At last we came to the park gates, and found the 
gardener looking out for us. As we came up the 
mistress ran out saying: 

“Are you really safe, my dear? Have you had an 
accident?” “Safe and sound, my dear; but if your 
Black Beauty had not been wiser than we were, we 
should all have been carried down the river at the 


i9 


Black Beauty 

wooden bridge.” 1 heard no more, as they went into 
the house, and John took me to the stable. Oh, what 
a good supper he gave me that night, a good bran mash 
and some crushed beans with my oats, and such a thick 
bed of straw! and I was glad of it, for I was tired. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE FIRE. 

My master and mistress decided to pay a visit to> 
some friends who lived about forty-six miles from our 
home, and James was to drive them. The first day we 
traveled thirty-two miles. There were some long 
heavy hills, and James drove so carefully and thought- 
fully that we were not at all harassed. He never for- 
got to put on the brake as we went downhill, nor to' 
take it off at the right place. He kept our feet on 
the smoothest part of the road, and if the uphill was 
very long, he set the carriage wheels a little across the 
road, so as not to run back, and gave us a breathing. 
All these little things help a horse very much, particu- 
larly if he gets kind words in the bargain. 

Just as the sun was going down, we reached a town 
where we stopped at the principal hotel, for the night. 
Two hostlers came to take us out. The head hostler 
was a pleasant, active little man with a crooked leg, 
and a yellow-striped waistcoat. I never saw a man 
unbuckle harness as quickly as he did, and with a pat 
and a kind word he led me to a long stable, with six 
or eight stalls in it, and two or three horses. The other 
man brought Ginger. James stood by while we were 
rubbed down and cleaned. 

Later on a traveler’s horse was brought in by the 
second hostler, and while he was cleaning him a young 
man with a pipe in his mouth lounged lazily into the 
stable to gossip. 


Black Beauty 


20 

“I say, Towler,” said the hostler, “just run up the 
ladder into the loft and put some hay down into this 
horse’s rack, will you? Only lay down your pipe.” 

“All right,” said the other, and went up through the 
trap-door. 

I heard him step across the floor overhead and put 
down the hay. James came in to look at us the last 
thing, and then the door was locked. 

I cannot say how long I had slept, but I woke up 
very uncomfortable, though I hardly knew why. I 
got up ; the air seemed all thick and choking. I heard 
Ginger coughing, and one of the other horses seemed 
very restless; it was dark, and I could see nothing, but 
the stable seemed full of smoke, and I could hardly 
breathe. 

The trap door was open, and I heard a soft, rush- 
ing sort of noise, and a low crackling and snapping. 
I did not know what it was, but it made me tremble 
all over. The horses were now all awake; pulling at 
their halters or stamping. 

At last the hostler who had put up the traveler’s 
horse burst into the stable with a lantern, and began 
to untie the horses, and try to lead them out; but he 
was in such a hurry and so frightened that he fright- 
ened us still more. The first horse would not go with 
him; he tried the second and third, but they would 
not stir. He came to me next and tried to drag me 
out of the stall by force. He tried us all by turns, and 
then left the stable. 

No doubt we were foolish, but danger seemed to be 
all around, there was nobody we knew to trust in, and 
all was strange and uncertain. The fresh air that had 
come in through the open door made it easier to 
breathe, but the rushing sound overhead grew louder, 
and as I looked upward, through the bars of my empty 
rack, I saw a red light flickering on the wall. Then 
I heard a cry of “Fire!” outside and the old hostler 


Black Beauty 


21 


quietly and quickly came in; he got one horse out, 
and went to another, but the flames were playing round 
the trap-door, and the roaring overhead was dreadful. 

The next thing, I heard was James’ voice, quiet and 
cheery, as it always was. 

“Come, my beauties, it is time for us to be off, so 
wake up and come along.” I stood nearest the door, 
so he came to me first, patting me as he came in. 

“Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy, we 
will soon be out of this smother.” It was on in no 
time; then he took the scarf off his neck, and tied it 
lightly over my eyes, and, patting and coaxing, he led 
me out of the stable. Safe in the yard, he slipped the 
scarf off my eyes, and shouted, “Here, somebody! take 
this horse while I go back for the other.” 

A tall broad man stepped forward and took me, and 
James darted back into the stable. I set up a shrill 
whinny as I saw him go. Ginger told me afterwards 
that whinny was the best thing I could have done for 
her, for had she not heard me outside, she would 
never have had courage to come out. 

There was much confusion in the yard, the horses 
being got out of other stables, and the carriages and 
gigs being pulled out of houses and sheds, lest the 
flames should spread any further. 

On the other side of the yard, windows were thrown 
up, and people were shouting all sorts of things; but 
I kept my eye fixed on the stable door, where the 
smoke poured out thicker than ever, and I could see 
flashes of red light; presently I heard above all the 
stir and din a loud, clear voice, which I knew was 
master’s : 

“James Howard! James Howard! Are you there?” 

There was no answer, but a crash of something fall- 
ing in the stable, and the next moment I gave a loud, 
joyful neigh for James came through the smoke lead- 


22 Black Beauty 

ing Ginger. She was coughing violently, and he was 
not able to speak. 

“My brave lad!” said master, laying his hand on 
James’ shoulder, “are you hurt?” 

James shook his head, for he could not yet speak. 

“Aye,” said the big man who held me; “he is a 
brave lad, and no mistake.” 

“And now,” said master, “when you have got your 
breath James, we’ll get out of this place as quickly as 
we can.” 

Master led the way to a large hotel and as soon 
as the hostler came, he said, “James, I trust the horses 
entirely to you; order whatever you think is needed.” 

The next morning the master came to see how we 
were. James went to the inn to see about our har- 
ness and the carriage, and to hear more about the fire. 
When he^ came back we heard him tell the hostler. 
No one could guess how the fire had been caused, un- 
til a man said he saw Dick Towler go into the stable 
with a pipe in his mouth. 

The under hostler said he had asked Dick to put 
down some hay, but told him to lay down his pipe first. 
I remembered our John Manly’s rule, never to allow a 
pipe in the stable, and thought it ought to be the rule 
everywhere. 

James said the roof and floor had fallen in, and that 
only the black walls were standing. 

The two poor horses that could not be got out, were 
buried under the burnt rafters and tiles. 

We continued our journey without further excite- 
ment and returned to our home in a few days. 

Then I heard that little Joe Green a boy of fourteen 
was to come on six months’ trial, in the place of James, 
who was to have a better position soon, at Clifford Hall. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A MIDNIGHT RUN. 

One night, a few days after James had left, I had 
eaten my hay and was lying down in my straw fast 
asleep, when I was suddenly roused by the stable bell 
ringing very loud. 1 heard the door of John’s house 
open, and John run to the Hall and back in no time. 
He opened the stable door, calling out, “Wake up, 
Beauty! you must go well now, if you ever did;” and 
almost before I could think, he had the saddle on my 
back and the bridle on my head. He ran for his 
coat, then took me at a quick trot to the hall door where 
the Squire stood. 

“John,” said he, “ride for your life — rather for your 
mistress’ life; there is not a moment to lose. Give this 
note to Dr. White; rest your horse at the inn, and be 
back as soon as you can.” 

John said, “Yes, sir,” and we were off in a minute. 
Through the park, through the village, and down the 
hill to the toll-gate. John called very loud and thumped 
on the door; the man came out and flung open the gate. 

“Now,” said John, “you keep the gate open for the 
doctor; here’s the money,” and off we went again. 

Before us lay a long level road by the river-side. 
John said to me, “Now, Beauty, do your best,” and so I 
did; I wanted no whip nor spur, and for two miles I 
galloped as fast as I could lay my feet to the ground; I 
don’t believe that my old grandfather, who won the 
race at Newmarket could have gone faster. When we 
came to the bridge, John pulled me up a little, patted 
my neck, and said, “well done, Beauty! good old fel- 
low.” He would have let me go slower, but my spirit 
was up, and I was off again as fast as before. 

23 


2 4 


Black Beauty 


We drew up at Dr. White's door and John rang the 
bell twice and then knocked at the door like thunder. 
A window was thrown up, and Dr. White, in his night- 
cap, put his head out and said, “What do you want?” 

“Mrs. Gordon is very ill sir; master wants you at 
once; he thinks she will die if you cannot get there. 
Here is a note.” 

He shut the window and was soon at the door. 

“The worst of it is,” he said, my horse has been out all 
day and is quite done up; my son has just been sent for, 
and he has taken the other horse. What shall I do? 
Can I have your horse?” 

“He has come at a gallop nearly all the way, sir, and 
I was to give him a rest here; but I think my master 
would not object if you think it best sir.” 

“All right,” he said. “I will soon be ready.” 

John stood by me and stroked my neck until the doc- 
tor came out with his riding-whip. 

“You need not take that, sir,” said John; “Black 
Beauty will go till he drops. Take care of him, sir, if 
you can; I should not like any harm to come to him.” 

“No, no, John,” said the doctor. “I hope not,” and 
in a minute we had left John far behind. 

The doctor was a heavier man than John, and not so 
good a rider, however, I did my very best. The man at 
the toll-gate had it open. When we came to the hill the 
doctor drew me up. “Now, my good fellow,” he said, 
“take some breath.” I was glad he did for I was nearly 
spent but that breathing helped me on, and soon we 
were in the park. Joe was at the lodge gate, and my 
master was at the hall door, for he had heard us coming. 
He spoke not a word ; the doctor went into the house 
with him, and Joe led me to the stable. I was glad to 
get home; my legs shook under me, and I could, only 
stand and pant. I had not a dry hair on my body, the 
water ran down my legs, and I steamed all over. Poor 
Joe! He was young and inexperienced ; but I am sure 



THERE WAS MUCH CONFUSION IN THE YARD, THE HORSES BEING GOT 
, OUT OF OTHER STABLES. [PAGE 21.] 













2S 


Black Beauty 

he did the best he knew. He rubbed my legs and chest, 
but did not put my warm cloth on me. He gave me a 
pailful of cold water to drink; then he gave me some 
hay and corn before he went away. Soon I began to 
shake and tremble, and turned deadly cold; my legs and 
loins ached and my chest ached and I felt sore all over. 
Oh! how I wished for my warm, thick cloth and for 
John, but he had eight miles to walk, so I lay down in 
my straw and tried to go to sleep. After a long while I 
heard J ohn at the door ; I gave a low moan, for I was in 
great pain. He was at my side in a moment. I could 
not tell him how I felt, but he seemed to know and 
covered me up with two or three warm blankets; then 
ran to the house for hot water and made me some warm 
gruel, which I drank, and then fell asleep. 

I was now very ill ; inflammation had attacked my 
lungs, and I could not draw my breath without pain. 
John nursed me night and day. My master often came 
to see me. “My poor Beauty,” he said one day, “my 
good horse, you saved your mistress’ life.” 

I was very glad to hear that, for it seems the doctor 
had said if we had been a little longer, it would have 
been too late. John told my master he never saw a horse 
go so fast in his life. It seems as if the horse knew what 
was the matter. Of course I did, at least I knew as 
much as this — that John and I must go at the top of our 
speed and that it was for the sake of the mistress. 

Mr. Bond, the horse-doctor, came every day. One 
day he bled me ; John held a pail for the blood. I felt 
very faint after it, and thought I should die, and I be- 
lieve they all thought so, too. One night John had to 
give me a draught; Thomas Green came in to help him. 
For a while both were silent, then Tom Green said in a 
low voice : 

“I wish, John, you’d say a bit of a kind word to Joe. 
The boy is quite broken-hearted; he can’t eat his meals, 
and he can’t smile. He says he knows it was all his 


26 


Black Beauty 


fault, though he did the best he knew. Give him a lit- 
tle sympathy; he is not a bad boy.” 

“I know he meant no harm,” said John, “and is not a 
bad boy. But that horse is the pride of my heart to 
say nothing of his being such a favorite with the master 
and mistress; and to think that his life may be flung 
away in this manner is more than I can bear. But if 
you think I am hard on the boy, I will try to give him a 
good word tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, John, I knew you did not wish to be too 
hard, and I am glad you see it was only ignorance.” 

John’s voice almost startled me as he answered, “Only 
ignorance! Don’t you know that is the worst thing in 
the world, next to wickedness? And which does the 
most mischief Heaven only knows. If people can say, 
Oh I did not know, I did not mean any harm, they 
think it is all right. Bill Starkey did not mean to 
frighten his brother into fits, when he dressed up like a 
ghost, and ran after him in the moonlight, but he did; 
and that bright, handsome little fellow, that might have 
been the pride of any mother’s heart, is no better than 
an idiot, and never will be, if he lives to be eighty years 
old.” 

I heard no more of this conversation, for the medi- 
cine put me to sleep, and in the morning I felt much 
better; but I often though of John’s words, when I 
came to know more of the world. 

I had lived in this happy place three years, but sad 
changes were about to come. We heard from time to 
time that our mistress was ill; that she must leave her 
home at once, and go to a warm country for two or three 
years. Everybody was sorry; but the master began 
directly to make arrangements for leaving England. 

John went about his work, silent and sad, and Joe 
scarcely whistled. There was a great deal of coming 
and going; Ginger and I had plenty of work. 

The first to leave were Miss Jessie and Miss Flora 


27 


Black Beauty 

with their governess. They came to bid us good-bye. 
They hugged poor Merrylegs like an old friend, and 
so, indeed he was. Then we heard what had been ar- 
ranged for us. Master had sold Ginger and me to his 

old friend, the Earl of W . Merrylegs he had 

given to the vicar, who was wanting a pony for Mrs. 
Blomefield. 

Joe was engaged to take care of him, and to help in 
the house, so I thought Merrylegs was well off. 

Before they left, the master came into the stable to 
give some directions, and to give his horses the last pat. 
Master thanked John for his long and faithful service; 
but that was too much for John. 

“Pray, don’t sir, I can’t bear it; you and my dear mis- 
tress have done so much for me, that I could never repay 
it; but we shall never forget you, sir, and please God, 
we may some day see mistress back again restored to 
health.” 

Ginger and I brought the carriage up to the Hall 
door for the last time. The servants brought out cush- 
ions and rugs, and when all were arranged, master came 
down the steps, carrying the mistress in his arms. 
“Good-bye again,” he said as we started off “ we shall 
not forget any of you.” 

When we reached the railway station, mistress walked 
from the carriage to the waiting-room. I heard her say 
in her sweet voice “good-bye, John, God bless you.” 

I felt the rein twitch, but John made no answer; per- 
haps he could not speak. Soon the train came puffing 
into the station; in a few minutes the doors were closed, 
the guard whistled and the train glided away; leaving 
behind it clouds of white smoke and some very heavy 
hearts. 

When it was quite out of sight, John and Joe drove 
slowly home ; but it was not our home now. 


CHAPTER IX. 

EARLSHALL. 

The next morning Joe put Merrylegs into the mis- 
tress’ low chaise to take him to the vicarage; he came 
and said good-bye to us, and Merrylegs neighed to us 
from the yard. Then John put the saddle on Ginger 
and the leading rein on me, and rode across the country 
about fifteen miles to Earlshall Park, where the Earl 
of W lived. 

We were taken to a light, airy stable, and placed in 
boxes adjoining each other, where we were rubbed 
down and fed. 

The next day Lord W came to look at us and 

seemed pleased with our appearance. 

“I have great confidence in these horses,” he said, 
“from the character my friend, Mr. Gordon has given 
me of them.” 

In the afternoon we were harnessed to the carriage 
A and led round to the front of the house. Two footmen 
were standing ready, dressed in drab livery, with scarlet 
breeches and white stockings. Presently my lady came 
down the flight of stone steps and stepped into the car- 
riage. This was my first time of wearing a check rein, 
and though it certainly was a nuisance not to be able to 
get my head down now and then, it did not pull my 
head higher than I was accustomed to carry it. I felt 
anxious about Ginger, but she seemed quiet and con- 
tented. 

The next day at three o’clock we were again at the 
door. When the lady came down the steps, and in an 
imperious voice said, “York, you must put those horses’ 
heads higher; they are not fit to be seen.” 

York got down and said very respectfully, “I beg 

28 


29 


Black Beauty 

your pardon my lady, but these horses have not been 
reined up for three years, and my lord said it would be 
safer to bring them to it by degrees; but if your lady- 
ship pleases, I can take them up a little more.” 

“Do so,” she said. 

York came round to our heads, and shortened the rein 
one hole, I think; every little makes a difference, be it 
for better or worse, and that day we had a steep hill to 
go up. Then I began to understand what I had heard 
of the check rein. I wanted to put my head forward 
and take the carriage up with a will, but I had to pull 
with my head up so tight, that it took all the spirit out 
of me, and the strain came on my back and legs. When 
we came in Ginger said,” “Now you see what it is like.” 

Day by day, hole by hole, our bearing reins were 
shortened, and instead of looking forward with pleasure 
to having my harness put on, as I used to do, I began to 
dread it. Ginger, too, seemed restless, though she said 
very little. 

One day my lady, coming down later than usual, said : 

“Are you never going to get those horses’ heads up, 
York? Raise them at once and let us have no more of 
this humoring and nonsense.” 

York came to me first while the groom stood at Gin- 
ger’s head. He drew my head back and fixed the rein 
so tight that it was almost intolerable; then he went to 
Ginger, who was impatiently jerking her head up and 
down against the bit. She had an idea of what was 
coming, and the moment York took the rein off the ter- 
ret to shorten it, she reared up suddenly and began 
plunging and kicking in a most desperate manner; at 
last she kicked right over the carriage pole and fell 
down. The groom soon set me free from Ginger and 
the carriage and led me to my box, turning me in as I 
was, and ran back to York. I was much excited by 
what happened, and if I had ever been used to kick or 
rear, I am sure I would have done it then; there I 


30 


Black Beauty 


stood, my head still strained up to the terret on the 
saddle and no power to get it down. I was very miser- 
able and angry, and felt much inclined to kick the first 
person who came near me. 

Before long Ginger was led in by two grooms a good 
deal knocked about and bruised. York came with her 
and gave his orders and then came to look at me. In 
a moment he let down my head, saying, “confound 
these check reins. I though we should have some mis- 
chief soon.” 

Ginger was never put to the carriage again, but 

when she was well of her bruises one of Lord W ’s 

younger sons said he wanted her; he was sure she would 
make a good hunter. As for me, I was obliged to go 
in harness, and had a fresh partner called Max; he had 
always been used to the tight rein. I asked him how 
he bore it. 

“Well,” he said, “I bear it because I must; but it is 
shortening my life, and it will shorten yours too, if you 
have to stick to it.” 

What I suffered with that rein for four long months 
would be hard to describe; but I am quite sure that, 
had it lasted much longer, either my health or my tem- 
per would have given way. Before this, I never knew 
what it was to foam at the mouth, but now the action 
of the sharp bit on my tongue and jaw, and the con- 
strained position of my head and throat, always cause 
me to froth at the mouth more or less. Some people 
think it very fine to see this and say “What fine spirited 
creatures.” But it is just as unnatural for horses as 
for men to foam at the mouth; it is a sure sign of some 
discomfort and should be attended to. Besides this, 
there was a pressure on my wind-pipe which often 
made my breathing very uncomfortable; when I re- 
turned from my work, my neck and chest were strained 
and painful, my mouth and tongue tender and I felt 
worn and depressed. 


3 1 


Black Beauty 

In my old home I always knew that John and my 
master were my friends; but here, although in many 
ways I was well treated, I had no friend. 


CHAPTER X. 

A RUNAWAY HORSE. 

Early in the spring, Lord W and part of his 

family went to London and took York with them. I 
and Ginger and some other horses were left at home 
for use, with the head groom in charge. 

Lady Harriet, who remained at the hall, was an in- 
valid and never went out in the carriage, and Lady 
Anne preferred riding on horse back with her brother 
or cousins. She was a perfect horse-woman and as 
gay and gentle as she was beautiful. She chose me for 
her horse and named me Black Auster. I enjoyed 
these rides very much in the clear, cold air, sometimes 
with Ginger, sometimes with Lizzie, a bright bay 
mare, who was a great favorite with the gentlemen, on 
account of her fine action and lively spirit; but Ginger, 
who knew more of her than I did, told me she was 
rather nervous. 

There was a gentleman of the name of Blantyre stay- 
ing at the Hall j he always rode Lizzie and praised her 
so much that one day Lady Anne ordered the side sad- 
dle to be put on her, and the other saddle on me. 
When we came to the door, the gentleman seemed very 
uneasy. 

“How is this,” he said. “Are you tired of your good 
black Auster?” 

“Oh, no, not at all,” she replied, “but I am amiable 
enough to let you ride him for once, and I will try your 
charming Lizzie.” 

“Do let me advise you not to mount her,” he said. 


32 


Black Beauty 


“She is a charming creature, but she is too nervous for 
a lady. I assure you she is not perfectly safe; let me 
beg you to have the saddles changed.” 

. “My dear cousin,” said Lady Anne, laughing, “pray 
do not trouble about me. I have been a horse-woman 
ever since I was a baby, and have followed the hounds 
many times, and I intend to try this Lizzie that you 
gentlemen are so fond of; so please help me to mount.” 

Just as we were moving off, a footman came out with 
a message from Lady Harriet to Dr. Ashley. 

The village was about a mile off, and the doctor’s 
house was the last in it. We went along gaily enough 
till we came to his gate, where Blantyre alighted and 
was going to open it for Lady Anne, but she said, “I 
will wait for you here; you can hang Auster’s rein on 
the gate.” 

He hung my rein on one of the iron spikes, and was 
soon hidden among the trees. Lizzie was standing 
quietly by the side of the road, a few paces off with her 
back to me. My young mistress was sitting easily with 
a loose rein, humming a little song. From a meadow 
on the opposite side of the road, the gate of which 
stood open, some cart horses and several young colts 
came trotting out in a very disorderly manner, fol- 
lowed by a boy cracking a great whip. One of them 
bolted across the road, and blundered up against Liz- 
zie’s hind legs; whether it was the stupid colt, or the 
loud cracking of the whip, or both, I cannot say, but 
she gave a violent kick, and dashed off into a headlong 
gallop. It was so sudden that Lady Anne was nearly 
unseated, but she soon recovered herself. I gave a 
loud, shrill neigh for help; again and again I neighed, 
pawing the ground impatiently, and tossing my head 
to get the rein loose. Blantyre came running to the 
gate and just caught sight of the flying figure, now far 
away on the road. In an instant he sprang to the sad- 
dle. I needed no whip, no spur, for I was as eager as 




-™ 1 






Mill 






wig 


AFTER THE FARRIER HAD EXAMINED MY WOUNDS, HE SAID HE HOPED 
THE JOINT WAS NOT INJURED. [PAGE 37.] 



Black Beauty 


33 

my rider; he saw it and giving me a free rein, and 
leaning a little forward, we dashed after them. 

We scarcely seemed to gain ground on them at ail. 
An old road-mender shouted as we passed him, “to the 
common, to the common, sir; she has turned off there.” 
I knew this common very well ; it was uneven ground 
covered with heather and dark green furze bushes, 
with here and there a scrubby old thorn tree; there 
were also patches of fine short grass, with ant-hills and 
mole-turns everywhere; the worst place I ever knew 
for a headlong gallop. 

We had hardly turned on the common when we 
caught sight of the green habit flying on before us. 
My lady’s hat was gone and her long brown hair was 
streaming behind her. Her head and body were 
thrown back as if she were pulling with all her 
strength, and as if that strength were nearly exhausted. 
It was clear that the roughness of the ground had very 
much lessened Lizzie’s speed, and there seemed a 
chance that we might overtake her. 

About halfway across the heath, there had been a 
wide dike recently cut, and the earth from the cutting 
was cast up roughly on the other side. Surely this 
would stop them! But no; with scarcely a pause, Liz- 
zie took the leap, stumbled among the rough clods, 
and fell. Blantyre groaned, “Now Auster do your 
best.” He gave me a steady rein. I gathered myself 
well together and with one determined leap, cleared 
both dike and bank. 

Motionless among the heather, with her face to the 
earth, lay my poor young mistress. Blantyre leaned 
down and called her name; she did not answer. 

At a short distance there were two men cutting turf, 
who seeing Lizzie running wild without a rider, had 
quit their work to catch her. 

Blantyre’s hallo, soon brought them to us. The fore- 


34 Black Beauty 

most man seemed much troubled at the sight and asked 
what he could do. 

“Can you ride?” 

“Well sir, I bean’t much of a horseman, but I’d risk 
my neck for Lady Anne; she was uncommon good to 
my wife in the winter.” 

“Then mount this horse, my friend — your neck will 
be quite safe, and ride to the doctor’s. Ask him to 
come instantly; then go to the Hall; tell them of the 
accident, and bid them send the carriage with help for 
Lady Anne.” 

“All right sir, I’ll do my best.” 

He then scrambled into the saddle and with a “Gee 
up” and a clap on my side with both his legs, started 
on his journey. He had no whip, which seemed to 
trouble him ; but my pace soon cured that difficulty. I 
shook him as little as possible, but once or twice on the 
rough ground he called out, “Steady! Whoa! Steady!” 
On the high road we were all right. He did his er- 
rand faithfully. 

There was a great deal of hurry and excitement 
after the news became known. I was just turned into 
my box; the saddle and bridle taken off and a cloth 
thrown over me. Ginger was saddled and sent off in 
great haste for Lord George. 

Two days after the accident Blantyre paid me a 
visit; he patted and praised me very much, and told 
Lord George that he was sure the horse knew of 
Annie’s danger as well as he did. “I could not have 
held him in if I would,” said he. “She ought never 
to ride any other horse.” I learned from their con- 
versation that my young mistress was now out of dan- 
ger, and would soon be able to ride again. This was 
good news to me, and I looked forward to a happy life. 


CHAPTER XI. 

RUEBEN SMITH. 

I must now say a little about Rueben Smith who was 
left in charge of the stables when York went to Lon- 
don. No one more thoroughly understood his busi- 
ness than he did. And when he was all right, there 
could not be a more faithful man. He was gentle and 
clever in his management of horses, and could doctor 
them almost as well as a farrier. He was a first rate 
driver and could take a four-in-hand or a tandem as 
easily as a pair. I believe everybody liked him; cer- 
tainly the horses did, but he had one great fault, and 
that was the love of drink. He used to keep steady 
for weeks or months together, and then would break 
out and have a “bout” of it, as York called it, and be- 
come a disgrace to himself; a terror to his wife, and a 
nuisance to everyone. However, he had promised 
faithfully that he would never taste another drop as 
long as he lived here; and had kept his promise so 
well that York thought he might be safely trusted. He 
was so clever and honest that no one else seemed so well 
fitted for York’s place. 

It was now early in April and the family was ex- 
pected home some time in May. The light brougham 
was to be freshened up, and as Colonel Blantyre was 
obliged to return to his regiment it was arranged that 
Smith should drive him to town in it, and ride back; 
for this purpose he took the saddle with him and I was 
chosen for the journey. At the station, the Colonel 
put some money in Smith’s hand saying, “take care of 
your young mistress, Rueben, and don’t let Black 
Auster be hacked about by any random young prig 
that wants to ride him, keep him for the lady.” 

35 


36 


Black Beauty 


We left the carriage at the maker’s and Smith rode 
me to the White Lion and ordered the hostler to feed 
me well and have me ready for him at four o’clock. A 
nail in one of my front shoes had started as I came 
along, but the hostler did not notice it until about four 
o’clock, when Smith came. The man told him of the 
nail and asked if he should fix it. 

“No,” said Smith. “That will be all right until 
we get home.” 

He spoke in a loud, off-hand way, and I thought it 
very unlike him not to see about the shoe. 

Almost before he was out of the town he began to 
gallop, frequently giving me a sharp cut with his 
whip, though I was going at full speed. The moon 
had not yet risen, and it was very dark. The roads 
were stony, having been recently mended; going over 
them at this pace, my shoe became loose and fell off. 

If Smith had been in his right senses he would have 
been aware of something wrong in my pace, but he was 
too madly drunk to notice anything. 

Beyond was a long piece of road, covered with large 
sharp stones, over which no horse could be driven 
quickly without risk of danger. Over this road, with 
one shoe gone I was forced to gallop at my utmost 
speed. My rider cutting into me with his whip, and 
with wild curses, urging me to go still faster. Of 
course, my shoeless foot suffered dreadfully; the hoof 
was broken and split down to the very quick, and the 
inside was terribly cut by the sharp stones. 

No horse could keep his footing under such circum- 
stances; the pain was too great; I stumbled and fell 
with violence on both knees. Smith was flung off 
with great force. I soon recovered my feet and limped 
to the side of the road, where it was free from stones. 
The moon was rising over the hedge, and by its light 
I could see Smith lying a few yards beyond me. He 
did not rise; he made one slight effort to do so, and 


37 


Black Beauty 

then there was a heavy groan. I could have groaned 
too, for I was suffering intense pain both from my foot 
and knees; but horses are used to bear their pain in 
silence. 

It must have been midnight, when I heard at a dis- 
tance the sound of a horse’s feet. As the sound came 
nearer, I was almost sure I could distinguish Ginger’s 
step. It was Ginger bringing two men in the dog-cart. 
They came slowly over the stones, and stopped at the 
dark figure that lay upon the ground. 

“It is Rueben,” said one of the men, “and he does 
not stir.” They came and looked at me, and saw my 
cut knees. 

“Why, the horse has been down and thrown him! 
Who would have thought the black horse would do 
that? Reuben must have been lying here for hours. 
Odd, too, that the horse hasn’t moved from the place.” 

Robert then attempted to lead me forward. I made 
a step, but almost fell again. 

“Halloo! he’s bad in his foot as well his knees. Look 
here — his hoof is cut all to pieces; he might well come 
down, poor fellow. I tell you what Ned, I’m afraid 
it hasn’t been all right with Reuben. Just think of 
his riding a horse over these stones without a shoe. I 
am afraid it has been the old thing over again.” 

Robert took his handkerchief and binding it around 
my foot, led me home. 

The next day, after the farrier had examined my 
wounds he said, he hoped the joint was not injured; 
and if so, I should not be spoiled for work, but I should 
never lose the blemish. 

As Smith’s death had been so sudden, there was an 
inquest held, and I was cleared of all blame. 


CHAPTER XII. 

RUINED, AND GOING DOWNHILL. 

As soon as my knees were sufficiently healed, I was 
turned into the meadow. I often neighed when I 
heard horse's feet passing, but I seldom got an answer; 
till one morning the gate was opened and who should 
come in but dear old Ginger. With a joyful whinny 
I trotted up to her; and soon found that she had been 
ruined by hard riding and was brought here to see 
what rest would do for her. 

“And so,” she said, “here we are, ruined in the prime 
of our youth and strength, you by a drunkard, and I 
by a fool.” 

One day the Earl came into the meadow and York 
was with him. They examined us carefully and the 
Earl was much annoyed. 

“There is three hundred pounds flung away,” said 
he, “but I regret most, that these horses of my old 
friend, who thought they would find a good home with 
me, are ruined. The mare shall have a twelve months’ 
rest, it may cure her, but the black one must be sold; 
’tis a great pity, but I could not have knees like that 
in my stables.” 

“They’ll soon take you away,” said Ginger after 
they had gone, “and I shall lose my only friend.” 

About a week after this, Robert came into the field 
with a halter and led me away. There was no leave- 
taking of Ginger; we neighed to each other, and she 
trotted anxiously along by the hedge, calling to me as 
long as she could hear the sound of my feet. 

Through the recommendation of York, I was bought 
by the master of the livery stables at Bath. 

Hitherto I had been driven by people who knew 

38 


Black Beauty 


39 


how to drive, but in this place I was to experience dif- 
ferent kinds of bad and ignorant driving; for I was a 
“job horse,” and hired out to all sorts of people. 

The tight-rein drivers, seemd to think that all de- 
pended on holding the reins as tight as they could, 
never relaxing the pull on a horse’s mouth, or giving 
him the least liberty of movement. They talk about 
“Keeping the horse well in hand” and “holding a horse 
up,” iust as if a horse was not made to hold himself 
up. 

The loose rein drivers who let the reins lie easily on 
our backs, and their hands rest lazily on their knees, 
have no control over a horse, if anything happens sud- 
denly. If a horse shies or starts, or stumbles, they 
cannot help the horse or themselves till the mischief 
is done. 

A slovenly way of driving gets a horse into bad and 
lazy habits; and when he changes hands, he has to be 
whipped out of them with more or less pain and 
trouble. Squire Gordon always kept us to our best 
pace and our best manners. 

He said that spoiling a horse and letting him get 
into bad habits was just as cruel as spoiling a child and 
both had to suffer for it afterwards. 

Some drivers are careless and will attend to anything 
else more than their horses. 

Then there is the steam-engine style of driving, these 
drivers think a horse can travel fast and constantly, 
perhaps with a heavy load or on bad roads, and never 
rest at all; really this is the most severe kind of driving 
and will r.uin a horse. 

I was let out several times to a Mr. Barry, who liked 
me and bought me. His hostler was careless; he neg- 
lected to feed and groom me properly, so that I became 
sick. 

My master could not attend to me and decided to 
sell me at the horse fair, as soon as I recovered. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A HORSE FAIR. 

Horses of every description were to be found at the 
“Horse Fair.” Young horses from the country, cart 
horses, carriage horses, and some splendid animals fit 
for anything; droves of shaggy little Welsh ponies, 
no higher than Merrylegs; and many horses like my- 
self, handsome and highbred, but fallen into the mid- 
dle class, through some accident or blemish. 

Then there were a number of dejected-looking old 
horses, lame, blind or sick, and sadly broken down 
from work. 

There was a great deal of bargaining and some trick- 
ery. I was put with several strong looking horses. Peo- 
ple who came to look at me would pull my mouth 
open, examine my eyes, feel my skin and flesh, then 
try my paces. 

Finally I was bought by a man named Jeremiah 
Barker. He took me to London to be used for a cab 
horse. Jerry and his wife and children, Harry and 
Dolly, were a happy loving family. 

They called me Jack, and made as much of me as my 
first master used to, which made me feel quite happy. 

The first week of my life as a cab horse was very 
trying. The streets were so crowded, the noise and 
confusion bothered me, but my kind master soon made 
me feel at ease and I did very well. 

One day, while our cab was waiting at one of the 
parks, a shabby old cab drawn by a thin, worn-out 
chestnut horse, drove up beside us. 

There was a hopeless look in the dull eyes of the 
horse, as she looked straight at me and said “Black 
Beauty, is that you?” 


40 


4i 


Black Beauty 

It was dear old Ginger, but so changed I scarcely 
knew her. She told me a sad tale of neglect and abuse, 
of changing hands many times, and going “from bad 
to worse” until she wished her life might soon end. 

I was much troubled and put my nose up to hers, 
but could say nothing to comfort her, although she 
was pleased to see me and said “you are the only friend 
I ever had.” 

Just then her driver came up and with a tug at her 
mouth and a lash of the whip drove off, leaving me 
very sad indeed. 

A short time after this a cart with a dead horse in it, 
passed our cab stand. It was a chestnut horse with a 
long thin neck and there was a white streak down the 
forehead. I thought it was Ginger; I hoped it was for 
then her troubles would be over. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

HARD TIMES. 

Christmas and New Year are merry times for some 
people; but for cabmen and their horses it is no holi- 
day, though it may be a harvest. Sometimes we have 
to wait for hours in the rain or snow, shivering with 
cold, for the merry people, dancing to sweet music at 
a party or ball. 

New Year’s eve we took two gentlemen to a card 
party and waited in the cold and sleet several hours. 
We were numb with cold, and when we got home after 
a long drive, Jerry was hoarse and ill. 

I had an easy time for several weeks ; while my dear 
master had been very sick and the Doctor forbade him 
doing cab work again. 

Jerry and his family were going to the country and 
the cabs and horses must be sold. This was sad news 
to me. 


42 Black Beauty 

Since I left Birtwick I had never been so happy and 
well cared for, as with my good master Jerry; but three 
years of cab work, even under the best conditions, will 
tell on one’s strength and I felt that I was not the 
horse I had been. 

Jerry sold me to a corn dealer, whom he knew, and 
thought I should be well treated, but my new master 
left me to the care of his driver. While good feed and 
fair rest will keep up one’s strength under full work, 
no horse can stand overloading; and I was getting so 
thoroughly pulled down from this cause that a younger 
horse was bought in my place and I was sold again to 
a cab owner. 

He was a hard-hearted, cruel man who sent me out 
day after day in hot weather with poor food and little 
rest. The whip was used on me until big welts were 
raised and sometimes the blood came. 

I never knew until now the utter misery of a cab- 
horse’s life. I was so wretched that I wished, as 
Ginger did, that I might drop dead at my work and be 
out of misery. 

My wish almost came true one day. The load was 
heavy and I was weak and hungry, when I tried to go 
up a hill, my feet slipped and I dropped to the ground 
apparently lifeless. 

After a time, I was revived and led back to the 
stables and on the advice of the farrier was well fed 
and cared for until I made a better appearance, so 
that I could be sent to the horse fair, for sale. 

There I found myself in company with many old, 
broken-down horses. I noticed a gentleman and a lit- 
tle boy coming toward me, so I pricked up my ears 
and tried to look my best. 

“Poor old fellow!” said the boy, “do you think he 
was ever a carriage horse?” “Yes, my boy,” said the 
gentleman, “look at his nostrils and his ears, the shape 
of his neck and shoulders, there is a deal of breeding 


Black Beauty 43 

about this horse.” He gave me a kind pat on the neck 
and I put out my nose in answer to his kindness. 

“See, grandpa, how well he understands kindness,” 
said the boy stroking my face, “can’t you buy him? I 
don’t think he is so very old; look at his fine mane and 
tail; please look into his mouth and see how old he is.” 

“Bless the boy! he is as horsy as his old grandfather.” 
The old gentleman laughed and began to examine me. 
He looked at my mouth. “Thirteen or fourteen, I 
should say, ’tis a speculation, but we will try him.” 
The boy was so delighted when I was paid for, and 
headed for their country home. 


CHAPTER XV. 

WITH OLD FRIENDS. 

Mr. Thoroughgood (my new master) gave orders 
for me to have hay and oats each night and morning. 
I had the run of the meadow and Willie took charge 
of me. He was kind to me and petted me so that I 
grew very fond of him. He called me “Old Cronv” 
because I came to him in the field and followed him 
about. 

Sometimes his Grandfather would come and look 
closely at my knees and legs. “This is our point, 
Willie” he would say, “but he is improving steadily.” 

The perfect rest, good food, and kind treatment re- 
vived my health and spirits so that by Spring I was 
able to work, and looked and felt quite like my old 
self. 

One day during the summer I was groomed with 
more than usual care and wondered if some new 
change was to come. 

Willie seemed half-anxious, half-merry as he got 
into the chaise with his Grandfather. They drove a 


44 


Black Beauty 


few miles and stopped at a pretty house, with a lawn 
and shrubbery at the front. It was the home of Miss 
Bloomfield, who, with two younger sisters came out to 
look at me. 

“You see ladies,” said Mr. Thoroughgood, “many 
good horses have had their knees broken, by careless 
driving, without any fault of their own. I think that 
is the case here, though I do not wish to influence you. 
If you desire, take him on trial and let your coachman 
see what he is like.” 

The next day I was led to my new home and placed 
in a comfortable stable. When the groom was clean- 
ing my face he said, “That is just like the star “Black 
Beauty” had, then he came to the place in my neck 
(where I had been bled) where a little knot was under 
the skin. He stopped and gazed at me, then began to 
examine me carefully talking to himself. “White star 
in the forehead, one white foot on off-side, and that 
little knot on the neck. It must be “Black Beauty!” 
“Why, Beauty! Beauty! do you know me? Joe Green 
who almost killed you?” 

I could not say that I remembered him, but I put 
my nose up to him and tried to show that we were 
friends. He began patting me as though overjoyed. 

“Give you a fair trial! indeed I will.” “I wonder 
what rascal broke your knees, you must have been 
sadly abused. Well, Beauty, it won’t be my fault if 
you haven’t good times of it now.” 

In the afternoon I was harnessed up and brought to 
the door. Miss Ellen was going to try me, and Green 
went with her. I heard Joe telling her about me, and 
that I was Squire Gordon’s old “Black Beauty.” 

When we returned, the other sisters came out to 
hear how I behaved. Miss Ellen told them what she 
had heard, and said “I shall write to Mrs. Gordon and 
tell her that her favorite horse has come to us. How 
pleased she will be.” 



MISS ELLEN WAS GOING TO TRY ME 


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I was driven every day for a week, and as I appeared 
sensible and well-bred, the ladies became fond of me 
and decided to keep me. 

I have lived here a year and hope to spend the rest 
of my life in this happy place, where I am called by; 
my old name “Black Beauty.” 



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